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Rook pushed open the door to The Cobbled Swan with some effort, his hands sweaty and his mouth dry. Harding had pushed him to the door, before he’d gotten a hold of his nerves. Her and Taash said they’d wait outside, as his meeting with the Inquisitor took place.
Whatever , he thought. Let them have their little date around Dock Town if they wanted, while he’d be left in a right state, having lunch alone with the Big Boss.
Harding seemed to find his slight panic amusing, much to the qunari’s detriment. The first time this had happened, he’d made such a fool of himself and Harding still liked to bring it up to tease him.
In Rook’s own defense, it had come as a surprise to her as well to see the Inquisitor in the flesh in Tevinter, what with Morrigan neglecting to mention to anyone the reason as to why she wanted to meet in Dock Town. Harding had even let out a little squeak in surprise, when her old boss stepped into the light, but quickly tried to hide it with a cough, though Rook definitely took notice of it. She conveniently forgets to add this to the retellings to their companions at the Lighthouse.
Rook felt that, arguably, his reaction this time around was quite understandable, when you take into consideration that he was gonna sit down and have a casual business lunch with the freaking Inquisitor. Growing up on a farm in Orlais and then spending so much time in Arlathan, the Veil Jumper hadn’t been casually hanging out with someone that important and potentially intimidating. After what had recently happened in Arlathan, he dreaded that he might have to defend the decisions he had made and deal with the consequences, though he felt quite happy with it, considering the situation. This was just a matter of convincing the Inquisitor to be happy with it as well.
Easy.
He sucked in a breath and took a step into the empty tavern. Not a soul in sight.
“Can’t be good for business…” He said quietly to no one, as he looked around.
In the far corner, by one of the large windows, sat a single, lone figure.
The Inquisitor was very recognisable. The description of him had been everywhere in the south of Thedas, back when the Inquisition was still around, so Rook hadn’t been in any doubt when he had first met the elf, and neither was he now. A dark skinned elf, short even for an elf, with a mane of dark brown curls hiding a handsome face.
During their first meeting, the Inquisitor had spoken with a soft voice. Rook had always imagined that someone with that much power would fill out the room a lot more, but apparently the elf took a different approach than other people in those positions. His voice was gentle and even, as he greeted him and Harding, spoke of the state of the south, told Rook he’d be in contact and then with a small, polite smile and a bow, he’d left with Morrigan. It couldn’t have lasted more than fifteen minutes.
This time it seemed to be more of an involved situation. The Inquisitor sat completely still, face towards the window, gazing out. His hands folded in his lap. An empty plate was placed on the table in front of him, but the wine glass next to it was filled with a bit of red, though it didn’t seem like it had been touched at all. A candlestick was burning in the middle.
He didn’t move at all, as Rook approached. It was as if he didn’t notice him at all, though Rook was sure that that wasn’t the case.
His suspicion was right, as when he came around and pulled out the chair opposite the Inquisitor, the elf slightly turned his head towards him, a smile appearing on his lips. It didn’t reach his eyes at all, though, which made Rook feel a slight shiver run through his neck.
“Hello,” the Inquisitor greeted, and then simply offered “Wine?”
“Ah, yes, thank you.” Rook managed to say, sitting down as the Inquisitor poured him a glass.
“Thank you for agreeing to meet me again.” The Inquisitor said, as he placed the wine bottle down on the table. He placed it near the window to the left of him, and it was a bit of an awkward movement, but Rook remembered the prosthetic left hand he’d seen the last time as well. Good for appearance, but not for much practical usage.
“Of course,” Rook answered, feeling awkward.
There was a beat of silence, as the two seemed to weigh the other. There was a struggle in the elf’s eyes, that was clear to the qunari in the seat opposite him. An impulse that he couldn’t really identify came forth in Rook’s mind. He decided to follow the trail of thought that it opened for him.
So, when the Inquisitor opened his mouth to speak, and without a second thought, Rook beat him to it.
“It isn’t just Inquisitor, isn’t it?” He felt a rush of warmth in his cheeks, cringing at himself interrupting the Inquisitor, but since he had been bold enough to put himself in that situation, he might as well see it through. “You were someone before, weren’t you?”
The Inquisitor stared at him, clearly taken aback by the question.
He recovered incredibly fast, the smile back on his lips. “Clan Lavellan,” He simply stated.
“Lavellan?”
“We try to be no one you’ve heard of.”
The Inquisitor was someone who was used to dealing with people. Knowing exactly what to agree with, smile and nod at, to get approval from others. The mask hadn’t slipped, despite the curveball of being asked quite a personal question and Rook felt a curious want to have a peek underneath it, though he wasn’t sure how to go about it without potentially overstepping himself.
“Do you go by Lavellan a lot?” he asked.
“At times.” The answer came, curt and to the point. No unnecessary words, the mask still stubbornly in place. But then the elf continued “And you? Do you use Aldwir at times, instead of Rook?”
Rook stopped in his tracks. He hadn’t expected the Inquisitor to know enough about him to know his old family name. He assumed a rapport about him, written by Varric or Harding, had been the source, but still, he hadn’t really heard that name used since all of this mess started, so it startled him slightly to hear it. Especially from someone like the Inquisitor.
“Varric gave me the name ‘Rook’,” was all he could answer.
“But it is a cover name for when you’re in the field, correct? I noticed that Harding introduced you only as ‘Rook’ when we met,” the Inquisitor said, as he reached for his wine glass. He sipped quietly, as Rook looked at him, a blush of embarrassment on his cheeks.
“I’m quite happy with the name Varric gave me,” he managed. He tried to smile at that, at the memory of the first time Varric told him of the name, had given him a new purpose at a moment when he was feeling quite lost, but a voice, sounding a bit like the Inquisitor’s, spoke over the memory. A cover name , the voice said.
“Names have meaning, as different masks we wear at different times” the Inquisitor said, pulling Aldwir out of his head. The words names and masks echoed in his ears, but he decided to pointedly ignore it. Pull yourself together , he cursed at himself.
“Like Solas, for example,” the Inquisitor continued, “I knew him as Solas, as you do now as well, but he has many different names. This is actually what I wanted to discuss with you.”
“I suspected that was the case,” Rook said, and the Inquisitor flashed a smile, which again only nearly reached his eyes.
“I want to hear more about what Solas did at Elgar’nan’s ritual” the Inquisitor said, his eyes burning with intent. Rook kept the eye contact. It had never come naturally to him to hold eye contact for longer than half a second or so, mixed with being looked at like that , it made him sweat even more. The Inquisitor’s eyes were a bright amber color, almost golden in a certain light. It unnerved Rook even more, to be quite honest. Bloody shining elven eyes , he thought, having been surrounded by elves in most of his adult life despite his own origin. He was glad to still be on the elf’s good side. Being stared down in anger with eyes like that couldn’t be a fun experience.
“It sounds like you already know,” Rook tried, but all he earned was a slight raise of an eyebrow.
“I would rather hear it from you,” the Inquisitor said.
“Elgar’nan raised his Archdemon and Solas got us out of there,” Rook answered. “We saved a lot of people”
He tried to keep a professional air to his answers. Short and to the point but still polite, like how the Inquisitor spoke. It did not come naturally to him at all. Yet somehow he had still found himself leading the Veilguard after what happened to Varric, so he might as well do his best to get used to it. Aldwir knew that it was because of Varric’s trust in him, though he felt it was sometimes misplaced, such as now, doubting himself like this in front of the Inquisitor.
Any tells of the Inquisitor’s thoughts were undetectable in his face, apart from the slightest raise to the eyebrow.
“You sound grateful,” the elf noted.
“Why wouldn’t I be? He really did help”
“It seems so…” the Inquisitor said, seemingly in thought.
Another beat of silence. Rook took the opportunity to gulp down a mouthful of the wine to help his nerves. He regretted it immediately. It was a very sweet wine, not something he would ever pick out himself, preferring bitterness and bite to his wines over this sugary taste any day. Had he not been fumbling through this meeting with the Inquisitor enough already, he would’ve been pulling a face, but he managed to keep calm.
“I know what it’s like to be swayed by him,” The Inquisitor then said, his face even and eyes slightly downcast. “He is a well of knowledge and during our time together I lapped it all up, like a good and useful dog.”
The Inquisitor’s eyes were far away and lost in old memories. His right hand fiddled absentmindedly with the stem of the wine glass as he spoke. Aldwir didn’t dare interrupt him, feeling spellbound by the tone of voice the Inquisitor spoke with.
“I enjoyed having him as a counsel during our time together. He always had an answer to every question I had, and as a Dalish elf it was exhilarating for me to hear him talk of the time of my people’s past. As a mage he also taught me so much, about magic and the Fade”
“At the same time, he was prideful and quick to react. I never felt like I could confide much in him like a friend. I was never in doubt when he disagreed with any actions we made though, which did lead to some… squabbling. But we always found common ground with each other, based on our shared heritage. Or as I came to learn, I suppose that was mostly a one sided feeling.”
“He was always quite distant. It never bothered me. In fact, I related to it. When I lived with my clan I pulled away from my family, because of my inability to deal with a situation I had found myself involved in. I know what it was like to pull away to protect yourself and keep a level of pride. So I tried to give him space and understanding, when I could. I know he got on with a couple of the people in my inner circle as well. A part of me has felt, in the years since, that he couldn’t have avoided caring about any of us entirely, but the actions he’s made since speak for themselves.”
The Inquisitor finally caught Rook’s eyes again, but the qunari almost wished they didn’t. The way his gaze burned, Aldwir had to force his own mask to be still. He recalled the much simpler time he had had with the Veil Jumpers and wondered how on earth he had managed to get involved with this mess. The Inquisitor continued to speak, and Rook couldn’t stop hearing it and burning the words to his mind.
“I have to fight for the people of this world, and if you are going to keep fighting under my banner I have to be able to trust you won’t be swayed by him, like so many have before you,” the Inquisitor said, “I have to be able to trust that you will make the decision that is necessary at the right time. If what happened to Varric proves anything, then that is that he will stop at nothing to achieve his vision for this world and we have no choice but to succeed, past friendship or not, or innocent lives will be lost.”
Silence. Aldwir let the order sink in, and found that a frown grew on his brow. Something clashed within him, as he tried to apply the Inquisitor’s words to his own viewpoint. He found that he couldn’t get it to fit at all.
After the moment had passed, the Inquisitor continued, “You are connected to him and your group fights the fight closest to the gods here. You might be forced to come to a decision quicker than what you are comfortable with, so listen to my advice, Rook. Don’t trust him. Don’t make the same mistake that I did, that Varric did. Trusting in old bonds of companions is too flimsy of a line to maintain, when the lives of thousands are on the line”
“Solas was your companion in the Inquisition,” Aldwir spoke up, his heart burning. He kept the Inquisitor’s gaze, who was, yet again, knocked off course by an unexpected personal conversation steering.
“Yes, but look where tha-” The golden elven eyes flickered slightly in desperation to be understood, but the qunari opposite him caught the gaze and kept it. This time Aldwir wouldn’t give him the time to pull the mask down again.
“Solas was a person close to you at one point, right?” He interrupted.
Lavellan’s mouth had parted slightly, probably in surprise over what Aldwir was saying. He honestly couldn’t believe his boldness himself, but he felt that he had to speak his truth. He had to try to get his point across.
“My family and old friends in the Veil Jumpers, my new companions in the Veilguard, all these bonds I have with the people whose lives have crossed mine; I don’t regret any of them. These bonds are what have made me who I am today, as well as the reason I am fighting this fight. I’m aware I probably sound privileged, as I mostly have been surrounded by good people but, while I understand what you are saying, Your Worship, I don’t think I will give up believing that Solas can be turned.”
Aldwir gave the Inquisitor a moment to answer or just to say anything , but he didn’t so he tried to keep going.
“The bonds we have with people in our life, that’s what makes us who we are, and they don’t really ever leave you. I keep my people in here,” he placed a hand on his chest as he spoke. Lavellan finally moved a bit, sitting up straighter and a smile slowly growing on his lips. Aldwir chose to believe it was genuine. He started to look down at the candle between them, not having the courage to keep looking at Lavellan.
He continued. “This is someone you have spent hours in the company of and even had in your inner circle, when the world demanded so much of you. He’s been a person you’ve relied on. Someone you trusted to have your back in a fight. Someone you leaned on and who mentored you in magic and the Fade. This has to mean something! To the both of you.”
He dared a look at the Inquisitor, fearing a mocking laugh and a note of termination ready for him, but all that met him was a gleaming smile on Lavellan’s lips, his eyes shining bright. At the sight of it, of what was hiding under the mask that he had been fighting to uncover since he’d sat down at the table, Aldwir couldn’t help but return the smile with a huff of a laugh.
“I mean… respectfully, Ser” he said.
Lavellan shook his head, still smiling.
“No no, that was good! For a moment I almost started wondering if it was Varric I was speaking to,” a somewhat tender laugh escaped the elf. Aldwir couldn’t help but feel a warm sense of pride swell in his chest at what he took as high praise.
Lavellan broke eye contact and fiddled with the stem of his wine glass again, a bit of pink in his cheeks and the tip of his ears.
“Hm…” he hummed, seemingly picking his words carefully. “After Solas left, so much happened… I suppose the years have been wearying.”
“Being the one in charge of keeping all of Thedas from falling apart for several years would have that effect on anyone, I imagine“
“I suppose it would” Lavellan’s smile, when genuine, was much more handsome, nearly making Aldwir blush. Being constantly surrounded by pretty elves when he worked with the Veil Jumpers had given him thick skin to their charm, but Lavellan was definitely in a league of his own. It didn’t surprise him much that Orlais hadn’t seemed to mind terribly much that the Inquisitor had been an elf, when he looked like that .
“It has definitely been a lot, that’s for sure. During the time of the Inquisition the people in my circle kept me grounded in a way I desperately needed. I haven’t seen many of them in years”
“You should meet with them all, when this whole business is over with”
Lavellan chuckled, “You know what, I really should.”
Another beat of silence fell over the two, but it was more comfortable this time. Aldwir still felt a knot of anxiety in his stomach and a warmth of embarrassment in his chest. He had never been one to speak up against authority like that, having always preferred to follow rather than lead but apparently being thrust into a leader position in the Veilguard as he had been, had lit some previously hidden fire inside him. It was equally exhilarating and terrifying to him.
He met Lavellan’s eyes and found that, while they burned less intensely, the warmth in his expression, that wasn’t there before, calmed him.
They both opened their mouths at the same time.
“I feel tha-”
“Do you kno-”
The two paused at the same time and looked at the other in surprise. Aldwin managed to almost panic, but then he saw Lavellan smile and nodded to him to go ahead. He let out a breath.
“I’m sorry, I was just going to say that I feel the same with the rest of my crew. I don’t know that I could do all this without them,” Aldwir was aware of the warmth in his cheeks as he spoke. He hadn’t spoken this candidly of his feelings about his companions in the Veilguard, nor how the pressure was getting to him. Not to anyone else but Varric, of course.
“No one can shoulder all the world's problems alone, although at times you must feel like you have no choice but to do so,” Lavellan said. “The things you’ve already achieved with the team you’ve gathered is incredible. I assume things are going okay? “
“It’s been good. We did have some disagreements after what went down in Weisshaupt, but I think we’re good now”
“Oh goodness, yes I heard about that. Hard to make it out of such a situation without seeing sides of people that they normally hide away. That’s bound to create some friction.”
Aldwir nodded at that, thinking back to the aftermath of that mess. He reached for the wine and filled his glass. He needed to drown the feelings that memory brought with it and even sugary wine could help with that.
“Before things got so out of hand in the South I was more involved in this hunt for Solas, but I had to pull away and handed this to Varric completely,” Lavellan continued, “I wish I could do more than just advice you through letters”
“No no,” Aldwir said quickly but he meant it. “It helps more than you know.”
Lavellan sent him a grateful smile. Aldwir felt he had already gotten much more out of this conversation than he had thought he would when he entered the tavern. Knowledge of Solas and his past with not just the Inquisition, but also the Inquisitor personally, as well as some support and wisdom from the one person in all of Thedas that might understand and relate to his position at the moment.
“Did you grow up under the Qun?”
Aldwir hesitated, as he considered how to answer. He had gotten used to somewhat hiding his past. Not that he was against talking about it, but that life he had lived before joining the Veil Jumpers was precious to him, so he kept it close to his heart. Yet the open expression on Lavellan’s face told him that the elf was nothing but genuine in asking.
“I grew up in Orlais, actually,” He explained, “It’s a longer story. In my youth I studied magic with my mentor, a Dalish elf my parents knew and then I moved on to work with the Veil Jumpers.”
“How interesting!” Lavellan said with honest enthusiasm. “You don’t meet an Orleisian, elven Qunari often.”
“Yeah, so I’ve been told.” Aldwir said with a chuckle, “You know about the Qun, Ser?”
“Oh, yeah a bit.” At that, the elf started fiddling with the glass again, his eyes down but wide and sparkling, the pink returning to his cheeks and eartips. “You can say I’ve had some first hand experience with the Qunari.”
“Oh?”
“Someone quite dear to me is qunari”
“Oho ?“
A laugh escaped the elf, still pink cheeked. Aldwir grinned, proud to have managed to make Lavellan genuinely laugh, that he had managed to flip the nature of this conversation, both of them finally with their guard and masks down.
“We haven’t seen much of each other these past few years, much too little to my liking actually,” Lavellan said with affection clear in his voice. A soft smile playing on his lips. Then a cloud slid in over his eyes and he looked back up and caught Aldwir’s eye, the smile gone from his face. The next he spoke he said with a touch of melancholy. “But the world doesn’t stop ending, just because I would want a vacation with my person. So please, do value the time of quiet that you do have. Try to cherish the time you have with your group right now.”
Aldwir blinked at that. A flash of memory struck his mind, a soft chair in front of a fireplace surrounded by books. A thin figure standing in front of him with a tender, careful smile, that gave away a hopeful and respectful yearning. A soft, bejewelled hand gently on top of his own, magic glittering in the air all around them. He felt a blush burn in his cheeks.
The serious look in Lavellan’s eyes disappeared, when he saw Aldwirs reaction. The elf’s kind smile came back as Aldwir gulped down another mouthful of wine at the heated memories.
“It's important to have someone know you,” Lavellan continued, “The real you. Not who you are in front of the people you serve, but the you that exists in the dark, in the early mornings or in the rare quiet moments.”
Rook nodded solemnly, taking in the advice. He held the memories close to his chest, deciding they were entirely too precious to him to put words to. He was sure though, that the Inquisitor didn’t demand it of him either. The memories of closeness and intimacy were for the both of them the most valuable in the struggle to survive the pressures of their destiny.
A tapping sound at the door threw both elf and qunari out of their thoughts. The Inquisitor turned in his seat and Rook leaned over the table to see. Morrigan stood in the doorframe. She sent a meaningful look to the Inquisitor, gave Rook a curt nod and then soundlessly disappeared again.
Lavellan turned back.
“It seems we’ve run out of time,” the elf said, “I must return to where I’m needed.”
Rook nodded again. He had many things he wanted to say to the elf, but wasn’t sure how to say it. He wanted to thank him, to hear him and beg of him, all at the same time. The task in front of him seemed overwhelmingly large and as both men rose from the table, it seemed to overtake Aldwir’s mind. All the things to think of, to do and to consider. It was too much for one man to deal with.
“You’re doing really well, Rook,” Lavellan’s voice caught him before he truly stumbled. The qunari looked up and saw Lavellan smiling softly at him, a glint of precious understanding in his eyes.
“I was fearful of leaving everything here to you, but as always it appears Varric chose correctly when it came to trusting you,” he said.
A knot in Aldwir’s throat and chest came up at the compliment. He hoped more than anything that the old dwarf had been correct. But just like the Inquisitor, he had people, good and passionate people, around him to keep him from falling down, crashing and failing. Rook knew their cause was good and necessary, or the world would end. He had to do it. He could do it.
“Thank you for trusting me, Lavellan,” he said. It felt awkward to say, the words being too small a piece of the gratefulness he felt.
Lavellan raised an eyebrow. “We have to deal with Solas and my people’s gods or the world as we know it is ending. You’ve proved yourself capable,” he said.
“Yes of course,” Aldwir said. Feeling bold and proud he reached out and grabbed a hold on Lavellan’s good hand, “and also for trusting me with your real name.”
He put his forehead to the elf’s knuckle. He knew it was probably an odd gesture, but he hoped Lavellan could feel his pure intent behind it. He looked up.
The elf was still smiling, but had a mix of bewilderment and amusement to his expression. After a moment, he then reached up and pressed the back of his hand slightly to Aldwirs forehead, where they had touched before. It was only for half a second, then he let his hand fall back to his side, but Aldwir felt the tenderness behind it.
“You needn’t bow to anyone anymore,” the elf said, hesitated for a breath but then spoke, “And my actual name is Mahanon... Lavellan is my old clan's name.”
Aldwir smiled wide. “Then thank you, Mahanon.”
Mahanon returned the smile, nodded and then turned to walk away. Aldwir stood left by the table. He suddenly felt bare and unsure what to do with himself. He needed to find Harding and Taash, but they could be anywhere in Dock Town. However, maybe a quiet walk would be good and give him space to think things over. He turned to start leaving as well, when he saw Mahanon had stopped. The elf had seemingly changed his mind and had stopped halfway to the door.
A moment's silence, then he spoke.
“I was just thinking... what did you say your name was?” Mahanon asked.
Aldwir grinned.
Hiss hiss…
“No, Manfred, it’s the other tome. The one next to the one you’re pointing at, on your left.”
Hiss hiss!
“No, Manfred, that’s your right! We’ve been over left and right countless times!”
“It’s the one bound in purple leather, Manfred, right in front of you!” Aldwir butted in. A hiss of victory could be heard from the top of the library ladder, as the skeleton found the tome he’d been sent up to find.
Emmrich would usually find his own literature, since Manfred was still just getting used to existing, but Aldwir hated when the older mage would use the wobbly and unstable ladder and had voiced his concerns. They had decided that if the sought-after book was from the top shelf, then they would send Manfred up there. He’d gain more experience on how to fetch things, how Emmrich liked his books to be organised and should he fall down, Emmrich could quickly reassemble the bones.
“If it helps you sleep better, Darling.” Emmrich had remarked as they agreed on it, leaning up and placed a kiss on Aldwirs cheek, the qunari’s skin burning up.
"Ah! Yes, exactly that one, Manfred, well done!” Emmrich exclaimed, as Manfred descended from the ladder and handed him the purple tome. The skeleton shimmied and shook at the praise. In the beginning, whenever Manfred would do his little shimmy Aldwir had feared there was something wrong with the skeleton, who he had come to like the company of despite the obvious. But Emmrich then explained that, since Manfred lacked a face, dancing like that was how he had taken to show his emotions. Aldwir had started to find it quite cute.
“This was just the book I needed, I know there’s a passage in here to help solve this problem, now if I could just find it… ” Emmrich was yapping away, as he quickly took to continuing his work.
Aldwir had taken a seat in Emmich’s chair by the fireplace. He liked to watch the other mage work. They had very different ways of approaching magic, both of them being experts in their own field and yet, what usually created friction between folks of different magic schools seemingly had brought the two of them closer. Both mages fascinated by the other's way of working with magic.
There was such a comfortable presence in the room, as Aldwir finally let himself unwind a bit in the soft chair, from the pressures he felt all around him outside this library. The warm light, that the Fade bathed the Lighthouse in, shined in from the upstairs opening in the round tower. The sound of Manfred tussling about in the background. It brought Aldwir some much needed peace to his mind and heart.
As he sat in his calm space, staring into the fire, a thought came up, said much in the voice of Lavellan.
Have someone know you. The real you.
Aldwir sat up straighter in the chair and looked over to Emmrich, who was flipping through the book.
“Uhm… Emmrich?”
“Yes, Dear?”
“I was just… you know,” Aldwir fumbled a little, unsure of how to ask. He knew Emmrich would never chastise him or maliciously make fun of him, but he felt awkward for asking this of him now. It felt too late to ask this. Aldwir’s inexperience in the world of romance and companionship gnawed at his confidence yet again.
He fixed his gaze on the fire lazing about in the fireplace, so he felt more than saw Emmrich noticing his hesitancy and walk over to him. Emmrich balanced down on the armrest and slit an arm across Aldwirs broad shoulders, weaving through his straight, long, black hair, underneath his curved horns and squeezing him affectionately. Aldwir looked up and saw the warm and honest expression on Emmrich’s face, a small smile playing on his lips, all prompting him to open up.
“I have just been thinking…” Aldwir started. He felt silly, but then he reached for the confidence his talk with Lavellan had opened up for him, something he’d always had, but never known of.
“You know, no one here has asked me this yet, but I just thought I would like to tell you; My name is Hakiem.”